


Dye Hard

by Grenegome



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen, Humor, Kinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grenegome/pseuds/Grenegome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon first signing a contract with Monoc Securities, John Marcone gets called something other than Gentleman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dye Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a Dresden Files Kink Meme prompt asking for John reacting to being considered young by one of the supernatural powers.

The first time it happened, I was sitting in the offices of Donar Vadderung, in my habitual business best, trying my hardest not to think _he’s a god, I’m signing a security contract with a_ fucking _god, why did we never cover retired pagan gods in Sunday school?_

“On the dotted line, boy,” Vadderung said, and pushed the contract towards me with a genial smile. I felt my eyebrows rocket towards my hairline, and couldn’t help myself. Vadderung had honestly surprised me, and even though I’ve had my horizons broadened (warlocks and werewolves and wizards, oh my), that didn’t happen very often.

“ ...Boy?” I repeated slowly, careful to keep any possible hint of irritation from my tone; I sought to clarify, not to challenge.

Vadderung’s smile slid higher across one side of his face, creasing up towards his eyepatch. “Boy. Yes. You’re aware there’s something of an age gap between us? Between you and all of the supernatural powers, really.”

“I presumed as much,” I said, accepting a pen. I had to resist the urge to fiddle with it, to bounce it in the air as if I were testing the weight of a knife. “We discussed the possibility of proposing me as a Signatory to the Accords in future. A contemporary of such powers. Will my age will count against me?”

“Your mortality will count against you, certainly. Power and wisdom count _for_ you, even if those with lazy minds believe such things are synonymous with age. But this won’t be the first time you’ve demanded due respect from your elders, Gentleman.”

“No,” I said, leaning forward in my chair, setting pen to paper.

“I advise against addressing the issue with hair dye this time.”

My head jerked up unbidden, along with a ridiculous memory, fifteen years past, of doctoring my appearance; head bowed over a sink, trying to gray the hair at my temples. I fucked it up. My temples were gray all right, but so was the rest of me, all the hair on my head, and a significant section of my ill-advised attempt at a beard. In accordance with standard procedures, I panicked and called Hendricks.

Hendricks laughed himself red in the face before helping me fix it, but he let me swear him to secrecy by the time we were done. I had years of certainty in Hendricks’ silence; he’d never breathed a word. But Vadderung knew, and it set me on edge to wonder what other moments he hoarded, fragments of my misspent youth locked safely behind his knowing eye.

“I hardly need it anymore,” I said, tapping my temple with the pen. “I’ve come by it honestly.”

Vadderung nodded, and I set about signing my name, and securing the services of a _Jesus Christ how is this my life_ Valkyrie.


End file.
